


Ghost of a Good Thing

by hedoro



Category: the GazettE
Genre: Angst, Ficlet, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-13
Updated: 2017-04-13
Packaged: 2018-10-18 09:43:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10614312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hedoro/pseuds/hedoro
Summary: Why is it so hard to let go of the skeletons in their respective closets?





	

**Author's Note:**

> loosely strung together almost-drabbles. based on a prompt challenge from livejournal.  
>  written years ago, edited slightly, finally dumped here. :3 ♥

**1\. Skeleton**

Everyone has their secrets, Aoi reasons. It's not like the other man is purposefully doing it, right?

Still, Aoi's temper flares. His jealousy and insecurities getting the better of him and though he doesn't mean to—never means the things he says in anger and resentment—another fight is started and another door is slammed shut in his face.

Locked inside their empty apartment with only his guilt and heartache for company, Aoi wonders where Uruha is, what he's doing and—

_why is it so hard to let go of the skeletons in their respective closets?_

 

**2\. Haunted House**

The door clicks shut behind him and he can't help but notice how the sound is amplified throughout the quiet darkness. Fingertips brush along the wall, feeling for the light switch before flicking it on.

His eyes adjust and he frowns. The dull, yellow light does nothing to brighten the empty apartment—does nothing to quell the loneliness he feels. And the shadows on the walls mimic the shadows under his eyes.

This house is not a home and—

_you still haunt me._

 

**3\. Ghost**

Uruha sighs. His back hurts from being hunched over his guitar for so long, but he can't quit now. Time waits for no man and neither do the record companies or fans.

The sound of feet shuffling around in slippers and a guitar being placed carefully into its holder rouse Uruha from his stupor.

"Long day, huh?"

Glancing up, Uruha catches the sympathetic tint of a smile sent his way. He blinks and stares, bleary eyes following Aoi's figure as he moves around the room slowly, fluidly, fixing his amp and arranging cables into a more organised mess.

"Music never quits." It's a belated answer but Uruha feels good when he hears a tinny laugh in response.

Warm, obsidian eyes meet his in a rare show of tenderness.

The ghost of a good thing long since past.


End file.
